Sunlight slanted through the trees in slow, golden lines, spilling over a small clearing that opened in the heart of the woods, where the grass grew wild and uneven, bending softly with the mountain wind.
And at the center of that clearing, a crooked little fire burned under a hanging pot.
The smoke of which rose lazy and pale before dissolving into the afternoon light.
Victor Halvern sat cross-legged beside it, his broad frame turned half to the flame as he stirred the dark brew inside.
The scent that rose from the pot was sharp with bitter herbs, crushed spirit moss, and the faint tang of something that used to be part of a monster.
And close to the fire lay Arlen.
The boy's breath came in shallow and uneven groans with sweat trickling down his face.
The wounds across his body had festered from the Goblin's Fester.
The bite on his shoulder had swollen purple with dark green pus oozing out of the wound.
His thigh bore two wounds, one gash, one bite, both red-black at the center and crusted where the infection met blood.
His knuckles were torn, his arms streaked with cuts that refused to close, and his face, pale as a ghost, twitched every few seconds as if caught in some nightmare that wouldn't end.
Even unconscious, he trembled, his whole body jerking with the kind of fever that bordered on a seizure.
Victor watched for a long while before leaning closer.
The fire's light caught in his deep brown, tired eyes, as he quietly calculated.
The boy's body was fighting it, but not winning.
Victor exhaled through his nose, hanging his head low.
"…Stubborn little bastard," he muttered under his breath.
He dipped the bone ladle into the pot again, the dark liquid swirling thick like tar.
It looked more poison than medicine, but it was the best Victor had.
After all, Goblin's Fester had rotted his wounds and destroyed his immune system, while Goblin Fever took advantage of the weakness and sank straight into his mind, sending him into that frenzy.
Each of them was deadly on its own.
But together they created something there was no coming back from… at least not without a miracle.
Sighing again, Victor set the ladle down and reached for a bundle of crushed leaves beside him, grinding them between his fingers until their pale juice bled across his palm.
The clearing stayed quiet except for the hiss of fire and the boy's ragged breathing.
"Vic… to…"
Victor froze.
For a heartbeat, he wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.
The crackle of fire made everything sound alive.
But then came another breath.
"Vic…tor…"
He turned, neck snapping toward the voice, and saw the boy's wide-open eyes staring at him.
But instead of the sickly green he feared, a pair of violet eyes stared back at him, clear, alive, and still carrying the glint of a man who's yet to give up.
"Arlen!" Victor exhaled, his voice breaking into something halfway between relief and disbelief as he dropped to his knees beside him. "You're okay, kid! You're okay!"
"Goblins…" Arlen rasped, the sound of his voice more air than words. "The-"
"It's okay," Victor said quickly, grabbing the boy's cold and shivering hand in his, "They're Dead, kid. All of them. You're safe here."
But instead of calming, Arlen's eyes snapped wider.
His trembling grip onto Victor's hand tightened.
"Where…" he breathed, his chest hitching, "…are their bodies?"
The question stopped Victor cold. "What?"
For a moment, the crackle of fire was the only sound.
Arlen coughed once, blood pooling at the corner of his lip. "Where… are their bodies!?"
Victor blinked. "Not far. Why-"
"Take… me…"
Victor frowned. "Kid, you need to rest. I made you something for the pain. Just stay still, alright? You're gonna-"
Arlen didn't listen.
He pulled at Victor's hand with what little life he had left, his trembling arm shaking as he forced himself half upright.
"Trust me…" he hissed through gritted teeth, his breath trembling, his eyes locked onto Victor's. "I… have a way."
And the next second, what little strength he had gave out as his body sagged, falling limp once more.
But the eyes… those damn violet eyes stayed fixed, unflinching, burning with that same refusal to die.
Victor stayed frozen for a long while, his expression unreadable while the fire crackled softly between them.
"…You're not making any sense," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper, "But fine. I'll take you there."
"That's the least I can do for you in your final hours." He spoke before pushing himself to his feet.
And for a brief moment, something like a smile ghosted across his face.
"…You really are her kid."